


A Rush Beneath the Skin

by thisothererin



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon-Typical Violence, Dragon Age Reverse Big Bang 2015, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 03:58:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5360231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisothererin/pseuds/thisothererin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having been born in a whorehouse and raised by the Crows, Zevran had a unique talent for getting under other people’s skin. </p><p>Or, five times Zevran made people blush, and one time someone turned the tables.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Rush Beneath the Skin

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the 2015 Dragon Age Reverse Big Bang, and was inspired by the lovely artwork of Zevran by carrionkings which you can find [here](http://porcupinepunk.tumblr.com/post/134622053303/2015-fallwinter-darbb-submission-also-known-as)
> 
> You can also check out the other wonderful story written for this prompt by settiai right over [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5310479).
> 
> Warnings: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, Brief Sex Scene
> 
> Further description of the Warnings, and how to skip certain scenes, can be found in the End Notes.

**001**.

He was eleven when Rinna was brought to House Arainai.  The only thing particularly noteworthy in that fact was that Rinna was also eleven, and therefore much older than the usual recruit.

Zevran, too young at the time to care for such intrigue, did not question that fact.  In fact, he did not pay much attention to Rinna that first day at all. 

He was far too preoccupied trying to take down Taliesen.  Zevran inhaled deeply, trying to regain his breath after a good ten minutes of sparring.  His legs ached from the spots where the older boy landed a few kick. 

Taliesen, with the slight waver in his stance and sweat dripping down his face, looked no better off.  Zevran smirked, proud in the knowledge he was finally wearing the older boy down. 

“Do you ever get tired of being so slow,” he taunted, before making another dash forward.

Taliesen barely dodged the blow.  His face pinched in an unhappy scowl, which he should know by now only spurred Zevran on.  It was always so easy to rile him up.  It was a cheap shot, taunting Taliesen, but Zevran didn’t feel bad about it.  They’d been trained to use every advantage they had.  If Taliesen did not learn to ignore Zevran’s taunts in the practice room, he’d die eventually anyway.

Zevran laughed.  “I will take that as a no.”  He pushed forward in another quick series of slashes.  Taliesen managed to parry all but one.  He gritted his teeth, more in frustration than pain since Zevran’s blade had only made contact with his bracer. 

Before Zevran could dash backwards away from Taliesen’s grip, the older boy lunged at him, knocking them both to the ground.  The weight of Taliesen’s body knocked the breath out of Zevran, and he was left momentarily gasping for air.

Taliesen sat up, looking both triumphant and smug.  “Who’s the slow one now, Zev?”

Despite still being practically crushed under Taliesen, Zevran let out a peel of laughter.  The happy sound ringing out in the room only seemed to irritate Taliesen further.  He punched Zevran squarely in the shoulder.  “It’s not funny, stupid,” he snapped.  “You think Ryul would let that mistake slide in training.”

“Oh Taliesen,” a familiar, amused voice said from the other side of the room. 

Both boys sprang up from the floor, almost tripping over each other in their rush.  Zevran’s back tensed and pulsed race as stood up straight, watching as the familiar red headed man approached them.  The older elf grinned wide at their obvious discomfort at his arrival. 

“It does my heart good, to see you so serious in your training.”  His eyes moved to Zevran, taking in the state of his rumpled clothes and hair.  Zevran held his breath, waiting for the sharp belittlement of his skills that was sure to come.

“We’ll work on some appropriate maneuvers to avoid that later,” Ryul said dismissively, and Zevran felt the rapid beating of his heart quiet down.  Ryul smirked, always so pleased to be the source of someone’s fear, and then motioned for someone behind him.

Zevran leaned to the side, trying to peak at who was behind his trainer.  Only then did he see a tiny, dark haired girl.  Her clothes were oddly nice for winding up here.  Nothing like the thin rags most recruits came in.  Zevran wondered if the moss green cloth of her dress was as soft as it looked. 

Of course, he would never ask.  Getting attached to new recruits was never a good idea.  Very few lasted long, and those that did were rarely friends.  Zevran took in the nervous quiver of her lip, and the slightly hunched set of her shoulders.  She’d last maybe five months, he decided. 

Ryul put his hand on the girl’s shoulder.  The touch startled a small gasp out of her.  “This is Rinna,” Ryul said.  “She’s a bit older than some of our other recruits, so she may train with you from time to time.”

Zevran lifted an eyebrow at that.  He glanced over to Taliesen to see the same confusion reflected on the other boys face.

When neither of them said anything in response, Ryul sighed.  “No need to be rude, boys,” he scolded lightly.  “Remember, we’re all family here.”

Zevran had to fight not to roll his eyes.  Lucky for him, the introduction appeared to be all Ryul wanted at the moment.  As he ushered the girl out of the room her head turned back.  She scanned the room from top to bottom before locking eye with Zevran. 

On a whim, Zevran stuck his tongue out at her. 

That seemed to break her out of her nervous daze.  She glared fiercely, angry flush red across her cheeks, then turned her head away sharply.

Zevran laughed.  Maybe she would last longer than five months, he though idly unsheathing his practice daggers for another round.

“You’re going to land yourself on the rack, Zev,” Taliesen warned quietly.

Zevran shrugged, unmoved by the warning.  “We’re all going to end up on the rack, Taliesen.”

 

-x-

 

The next few times Zevran encountered Rinna went much the same. 

Some training or another would thrust them together.  And when Rinna would struggle with something new, Zevran stuck his tongue out at her behind the back of whoever was training. 

He considered stopping.  Paying any special attention to new trainees wasn’t a good idea.  But every time he did this she would glare at him with all her might, and redouble her efforts.  And despite all odds and previous struggles, she would get better.

And Despite knowing better, Zevran found himself growing fond of the girl. 

 

-x-

 

Zevran was working on a poison weapon coating when he heard it.  A soft sniffling sound coming from somewhere deeper in the cool lab. 

Slowly putting the glass flask on the table, he looked around the room trying to determine the location of the sound only to be met with silence.   He must have been imagining it.

Just as he was about to resume his work, he heard the noise again.  He narrowed his eyes and stepped away from the desk.  Gaze moving across the room, he tried to hone in on the noise.  Finally, his eyes settled on the large oak cabinet. 

Zevran crept silently over to it, trying not to alert whoever was on the other side to his presence.  Once he reached his goal, he flung open the doors widely. 

Rinna startled from where she sat hunched over in the short cabinet.  She stared up at him, and Zevran blinked back equally surprised.  Her brown eyes were watery and red, leaving little doubt that she had been crying.  The shock at being caught seemed to have stopped her tears for the moment.

“What do you what,” she demanded, wiping furiously at her bright cheeks.  They burned bright red in the now familiar show of embarrassment.

Zevran felt an uncomfortable squirm of guilt in the pit of his stomach, though what for he couldn’t say.  It could not have been his taunting that brought her tears on.  But as Rinna looked back up at him, and her bottom lip began to quiver, he felt at least a little responsible.

Not quite knowing what to do with that, he nudged her over.  “Scoot.”

Rinna narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but did as he asked.    As soon as there was enough space, he crawled in beside her.  Their legs were pressed side to side, and the sound of her staggered breathing was louder in the cramped space. 

“It doesn’t get better,” Zevran said bluntly.

Her breath hitched and he could feel her shoulder start to shake against his.  He groped around in the dark for a moment before finding her hand.  Once he found it, he grasped it firmly and was surprised when she grasped his right back.

“But it might,” he continued.  “If we survive past training, it might.”

**.002**

 

In their first four years with the Crows, Zevran and Taliesen were not remarkable at anything other than surviving.  This changed with the arrival of Rinna; her constantly spinning mind brought an unforeseen balance of their particular sets of talents.  While Zevran had been perfectly happy in his somewhat lackluster role in the Crows, there was no denying that they made a potentially formidable team. 

Six years and a handful a small assassinations later, they were unquestionably the most promising young trio House Arainai had to offer.

This did not mean they got along.

It was the night before their most important contract yet, and Zevran was stuck in a Starkhaven Inn watching Rinna and Taliesen argue.

The part where they were in Starkhaven was new.  The part where Rinna and Taliesen were arguing was not. 

“There’s no other way,” Rinna repeated for, what was by Zevran’s count, the fifth time that day. 

Taliesen shook his head.  Zevran knew his talents.  He was more than happy to let Rinna handle the planning and take whatever orders were doled out, but Taliesen chafed under her lead. 

“Think of one,” he demanded.  “We both know this is Zevran’s area of expertise, not mine.”

Rinna sighed.  “And I would choose him now if that were an option, but it’s not.” 

Zevran watched both of them from where he sat cross legged on one of the beds.  Rinna sat seemingly unaffected at the small desk, looking over the maps for the Darrow family estate.  The party they were set to infiltrate was being held there tomorrow, so they’d all studied it meticulously.  At this point in the mission Rinna would have no trouble recalling the layout, yet she hadn’t glanced up once during the entire exchange.

Practically a direct opposite from her in all the ways that mattered, Taliesen stood restlessly on the other end of the room.  He glared at Rinna’s back.  His temper was only marginally better at eighteen than it had been at eleven.

“I thought you were supposed to be the brains of this operation,” he spit out.

Rinna tensed.  Parchment rustled as she carelessly dropped the maps to the table.  “I am the brains,” she said, harshly shoving the chair to the side.

Zevran watched with bated breath as she walked up to Taliesen and crowded in to his space, eyes flashing with anger the entire time.  Somehow being a foot shorter then him did not make her any less intimidating.  (Privately, Zevran thought she was gorgeous like this.  Not that he would mention that to Taliesen)

“Do you think I want to trust you with this,” she spat out.  “Dolina is a racist cunt.  Zevran so much as sends a flirtatious look her way, she’s more likely to have him hanged than to be flattered.”

Taliesen looked like he was about to argue, but before he could get a word out Rinna cut him off.  “I’d much rather take care of this myself than leave it to you, but unfortunately she has shown no inclination towards women.  So you do the math: no elves, and no women.  What does that leave us with?”

Taliesen pursed his lips, clearly knowing that there was no beating her logic.  Rinna tilted her head to the side.  “No brilliant ideas Taliesen?”  Her mouth quirked in a mocking smirk.  “Well that is a surprise.”

“Shut up,” Taliesen growled down at her.  Before Zevran could get up and step in, Taliesen roughly pushed past Rinna, knocking her back a couple of steps, and stormed out of the room.

Rinna looked ready to chase after him, glaring at the door as Zevran fully stood up from the bed.

“You know, he’s not as stupid as you sometimes like to make him feel,” Zevran said lightly.

“It doesn’t matter,” Rinna said, not quite admitting that Zevran was right.  “This way is the fastest.”

Zevran shrugged.  “Of course it is.  Doesn’t mean it’s the only way.” 

Rinna clenched her fists, so Zevran held up his hands in a placating gesture.  “Don’t worry, my friend, I agree with your plan.” 

At those words Rinna’s shoulders suddenly lost all of the tension she’d been holding.  “This is important, Zev,” she muttered, for once looking her sixteen years.  The price of failing was high; Zevran wondered if it was the weight of all their lives she felt on her shoulders.

“Just let me handle this,” Zevran said as he pulled her in for a hug. 

He waited until he felt her ease against him before letting out a theatrical sigh.  “Besides, it would be a great tragedy for two people as pretty as yourselves to kill each other.  I simply can’t allow it.” 

Rinna huffed out a laugh against his neck.  “Very well.”

 

-x-

 

It wasn’t difficult to find Taliesen.  It never was for Zevran.  Though, that was mostly due to the human’s predictable habit of wandering into the dirtiest tavern whichever city they happened to be in offered.

It was hard at first to find a seedy tavern along the granite paths of Starkhaven.  With all its marble fountains and opulent homes, it was beautiful in a way Antiva City wasn’t.  Too beautiful, in fact.  Zevran felt a tug of longing for the overbearing smell of the docks back home.

He had to look a little longer than expected, but as soon as he saw worn sign sporting ‘ _The Golden Tankard_ ’ in gaudy letters Zevran knew he had found the place.

A cursory glance across the dingy bar was all it took to spot Taliesen sulking in a back corner.  Zevran did not bother grabbing a mug for himself before heading back.  With any luck, he would not be there much longer.

“You know, my friend, I do not know whether to be concerned or impressed that you always manage to find the dirtiest tavern in every city we go,” Zevran drawled as he sat down in the chair opposite of Taliesen.

The other man didn’t look up from his mug.  He simply snorted in amusement before firing back, “And here you are, following me in to it just like always.”

Zevran shrugged.  “Well, I can’t in good conscious let my friend drink alone.  It is just too sad, you spending your night sulking like this.” 

He watched like a hawk as Taliesen gripped his mug tighter.  The contents of the mug sloshed up against the sides, when he set it down forcefully.  “I can’t be in there with her right now,” Taliesen finally muttered.  “She’s infuriating.”

“At times, yes” Zevran agreed, “but also brilliant.”

Taliesen’s shoulder tensed as he shifted his gaze back up to Zevran.  “So what, you’re here to tell me she’s right and drag me back like some chastised trainee?”

Once again, Zevran found himself holding his hands up, trying to placate a third of their trio.  The motion was one he was already intimately familiar with at this point in their career.  “Not at all.  We all know there are other ways we could do this, even if Rinna won’t admit it to your face.”

Zevran paused briefly to let Taliesen take in his words.  “But her plan is the best.” 

Taliesen picked his drink back up, gulped it all down in what was either an impressive or stupid display, and slammed it back down on the table.  “But it’s not the best plan!  I’m no good at this stuff.” 

If he hadn’t sounded so frustrated, it would have been a pathetic echo of his earlier words.  Taliesen gestured widely.  “I can’t just bat my eyes at someone and make them follow me to their death”

That surprised a loud laughter out of Zevran, drawing a couple of looks from a nearby table.  Taliesen raised his mug at them sardonically before shooting Zevran a petulant look. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, once he had contained his amusement.  “But is that what you think I do?”

Taliesen scowled.  “It’s not what I think,” he insisted.  “It’s what I’ve seen.”

“Well yes, when that is what will work.”  Zevran admitted.  Some humans liked that sort of thing; an elf bold enough to make eyes at them, but not aggressive enough to make a more blatant move.  “But you know that’s not how it always goes.”

Taliesen scoffed.  “Rinna will see sense and change the plan.”

“Rinna sees sense, and will keep the plan as it is,” Zevran fired back.  In reality she very well may have been plotting out another plan as they spoke.  She was hard to read like that.

Taliesen rubbed his hand over his face, clearly at wits end.  “How can it be sense, if I mess it up?”  He smiled weakly at Zevran, then looked down at the table.  Zevran couldn’t think of a time the other man had ever looked this unsure of himself.

 

(Other than the time they were officially the only two trainees left; but being nine and afraid doesn’t count.)

 

Once again, the cold realization of what it would mean if they failed gripped Zevran.  Dying was not something he wanted, particularly when he had managed to survive this long.  He imaged that Taliesen, always more cognizant of every stupid rule that was hung over their heads, felt much the same.

Zevran took a moment to study Taliesen’s face.  He really was a handsome man.  Wide, square face housing his sharp cheekbones and striking dark eyes.  Brute force might have been his strong suit, but he was plenty nice to look at.  Once he learned how to wield that to his advantage, this would be a non-issue.  That it was an issue now wasn’t necessarily a shortcoming.  Growing up in a whorehouse had simply pushed Zevran past that particular learning curve long ago.

Zevran tried to formulate words to say to make Taliesen believe he was capable of it, but his silver tongue failed him at the moment.  Action it seemed was what was needed.

Having made up his mind, Zevran stood up and walked to the other side the table.  Taliesen, good, slightly paranoid assassin that he was, had picked the chair in the very corner of the room.  Because of this Zevran was able to crowd in to his space and tower over him. 

Zevran rested a hand on Taliesen’s shoulder.  When the other man didn’t look up, he dragged his thumb deliberately across the little bit of exposed skin near the top of his shirt collar.  Luckily for Zevran, Taliesen was not in his armor so there was slightly more skin available to his touch then there normally would have been.

Taliesen’s head jerked up.  He arched an eyebrow at Zevran, but didn’t move away from the slow steady pressure of Zevran’s hand.  That was all the sign he needed to lean forward and continue.

“The trick to getting your mark,” Zevran began, voice pitched low so to warrant speaking so close to other man, “is that you have to excite them.” 

“Dolina’s a vicious woman, so it will be easy. You think she’s been satisfied with these Starkhaven lords?  No, she wants someone vicious too.” He punctuated his words with a slow drag of his hand up Taliesen’s neck to cup his jaw.  “Who better than you?”

“Let her see that you’re dangerous, that will be enough to intrigue her.”  He tilted Taliesen’s head up so that their eyes met.  “Make her believe you want her, and she will follow.”

“That’s how it is with anyone.  Convince them that you desire them,” Zevran let his gaze flick down to Taliesen’s lips as he said this, “and they’ll be yours.”

Taliesen chuckled, and Zevran had to bite back the instinct to lean forward, kiss him and swallow up that sound.  “Easy for you to say.”  Taliesen smirked up at him.  “Have you met anyone you didn’t want to sleep with?”

Deciding that if Taliesen hadn’t pushed him away yet, he probably had a good enough shot, Zevran dragged his thumb across the other man’s lower lip.  His pulse raced when he felt Taliesen’s breath stutter against his finger.

“Maybe one or two,” Zevran murmured, as he felt Taliesen rest his hands against his hips.  He enjoyed the weight of the other man’s touch, and kept his eyes locked with Taliesen’s as he continued.  “But I don’t count you among those.”

Taliesen surged up from his chair, twisting so that he had Zevran pinned against the wall of the tavern.  It didn’t even cross his mind to protest the manhandling.  He simply brought his hand behind his neck and reeled Taliesen’s mouth down to his.

The broke a part a moment later, both gasping lightly for air.  “You’re a menace,” Taliesen said before moving back in for another deep kiss.  “Was this your plan all along?”

“Of course not,” Zevran said, leaning up slightly so he bite at Taliesen’s lip.  “But you can hardly argue with the results.” 

“A menace,” Taliesen repeated with a grin.

 

-x-

 

Rinna eyed them suspiciously when they got back to the room.  If their rumpled cloths and demeanor give them away however, she said nothing.  Simply went back to reviewing the map they had of the manor.

Without glancing up again she asked, “So we all know the plan?”

Taliesen sighed, some part of him clearly still wanted to argue.  Zevran cast him a sidelong look, and arched an eyebrow.  Taliesen’s cheeks flushed, and Zevran couldn’t help but smirk.

 _Menace_ he mouthed at Zevran before saying, “Yes, we know the plan.”

 

 

 **.003**  

From merchant princes to thieves and whores, Antiva City was home to all sorts.  It was for this reason that, despite being born in a Rialto whorehouse, that Zevran called it home.

He loved every inch of the city.  From the very top of the royal palace to the seedy underbelly of the docks.  And if he was partial to the seedy underbelly, there was no one who could blame him.  After all, he was a Crow. And they were an intrinsic, inseparable part of all things kept just behind the surface of Antiva.

Also, it was the best place in the city to pick pockets.

Normally if a pickpocket was require on missions, he along with Rinna and Taliesen would have to plan it down to the moment.  They would create the perfect distraction for Zevran to strike during.  And he supposed that was all well and good – after all, there were no rooms for mistakes in that area – but it did suck the artistry out of the act.

That was not the case out here on the docks.   With all walks of Antiva City life milling about together, there was no need to manufacture distractions.  They were there in plenty.  A fact clearly illustrated by the finely dressed man Zevran spotted, standing with a small crowd who had gathered to watch a group of pretty dancers.

The man seemed arrested by one woman in particular.  And he was not wrong to be so. 

She was a site to behold with her wild brown hair and smiling green eyes.  Like any good performer, she had spotted the most likely source of payment and latched on, shooting coy glances at the man.  In turn, he stood transfixed. With every move of her lithe body, and every flash of smiling eyes, he was entirely unaware of Zevran cutting the strings of his coin purse.

The sweeping music masked the soft clinking noise of coins as Zevran caught the purse in his hands. 

So filled with his small triumph, Zevran almost missed the light pressure of someone reaching for his own pocket.

Flinging his hand out, he quickly grasped on to the offending wrist.  There was a small hiss of pain behind him.

Zevran turned his head to the side to get a look at the culprit.  To his surprise he was met with the unrepentant gaze of a young human woman.

“You’re not bad,” she said, grinning with her teeth.

Zevran narrowed his eyes.  “You are either very stupid, or very brave.”

That earned him an arched eyebrow.  “Why?” she asked, still irritatingly cavalier.  “Because you’re a Crow?”

At that, Zevran began to walk away from the crowd, pulling the would-be-thief with him.  Still apparently unfazed by being caught red handed trying to pickpocket an assassin, the woman chuckled behind him and followed easily.  Zevran scowled as he pulled her in a small alley just behind one of the fisher’s stalls and next to a private loading dock.

As soon as they came to a stop woman yanked her wrist away from his.  The woman looked oddly nonplussed for being trapped in a corner with an irritated assassin.  “So is this how you treat all woman?” She crossed her arms in front of her and cocked one hip to the side as she spoke.

Zevran snorted.  “Only the ones who try to steal from me.”

Now that they were away from any prying eyes that might have been on the docks, Zevran took a moment to really study the aggravating woman. 

She was stunning, he’d give her that.  Light brown eyes stood out against her warm brown skin, and for all that they were quirked in that irritating smirk of hers, her lips were full and lush.  He entertained the thought of what it would be like to press a harsh kiss to them.  It was an intriguing image, but he pushed it aside.

His gaze trailed down to the bodice of her dress.  The blue fabric clung snuggly over her generous figure and was obviously expensive.  “Though what a woman like you is doing trying to steal from the likes of me, I confess, is a bit of a mystery.”

Sun glinted off the woman’s hand as she uncrossed her arms, drawing Zevran’s gaze.  There, on her fourth finger, sat an impressive ring.  He reached out to pull her hand towards him, turning it from side to side to take in the ring Zevran smirked at etching around it and noted, with little surprise, that her hand hadn’t a callous on them.

Zevran pulled her body closer to his, and brought his other hand up to firmly grasp her hip.  Their eyes were level, and he did not break their gaze as he spoke his next words.  “Tell me, thief.  Does your husband know what you’re up to?”

Husband was the magic word, it seemed, as a dark flush crept up into her cheeks.  But instead of looking angry at having been caught out like Zevran expected, she only looked excited. 

“Not a clue,” she answered, raising an eyebrow almost in challenge.

Zevran chuckled.  Oh, but he was starting to like this woman.

“What’s your name?” he asked, stroking a thumb across the knuckles of her hand.

“Does it matter?” she replied with, Zevran was pleased to note, a somewhat breathy tone.

“No,” Zevran answered matter-of-factly.  “But I would like to know it, all the same.”

She narrowed her eyes at him momentarily before saying, “Isabela.”

“A fitting name.”  He said, before raising her hand to his lips and placing a soft kiss to her skin.  

He could have her right her, Zevran realized.  There were no prying eyes in the alley, not that those would have necessarily been a deterrent for him, and she was clearly angling for a distraction from whatever mundanities were in her everyday life.

But the thing was, Zevran was a tease at heart.  So instead of pulling her in for the kiss he had imagined earlier he took his hands off of her and stepped away. 

“You should be more careful of where you put your hands.  Next time, I might not be so forgiving.” Zevran winked at the shocked look on her face, then turned to make his way out of the alley.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he heard her mutter behind him. 

It was hard to walk away from so beautiful a woman.  But if Zevran’s instincts were right, as they oh so commonly were when it came to this sort of thing, Isabela would be back.

 

-x-

 

He was not disappointed when a week later Zevran felt a familiar tug at his back pocket.  This time when his grasp was marginally more gentle as he grasped the wrist of his would be thief. 

“You should really work on your technique,” he drawled, before turning to see Isabela’s grinning face.

She took a step closer, pressing her chest flush against his back.  “So stop teasing, and show me what you can do with those fingers of yours.” 

This time, Zevran pulled her into an inn and not an alley.

 

 

**.004**

 

Zevran was laying out on the grass, attempting to soak up some of the precious rays of sunshine.  It was a pale imitation of the sun he had known in Antiva, but he would take what he could get.  Surviving the Ferelden winter would be awful.  Perhaps the darkspawn would get to him first.

He had just been about to nod off into a light sleep when a large shadow cast over him.  “I am curious. Will the painted elf answer a question?”

Zevran opened one eye to see Shale looming over him.  Though perhaps the looming was not intentional on Shale’s part, and more an accidental default simply borne of being a golem. “Why not? I appear to have all day.”

“The painted elf attacked the Grey Warden, and yet it still lives. Had the decision been mine, its skull would be pulp right now.” Zevran’s grimaced, and sat up.  The mental image of his skull crushed beneath Shale’s massive stone foot was not something he had needed.

“Oh, I don't know.  Could you destroy something as pretty as I am, hmm?” He grinned flirtatiously up at Shale as he spoke.  If it had any reaction though, Zevran could not tell.

“Easily,” Shale replied.  “I fail to see how any measure of attractiveness would make one difficult to crush.”

Zevran looked around the camp, seeking any sort of escape now that the topic of crushing his skull was brought up again.  “Perhaps you do not know how to look, then.”

In a moment of pure luck, he spotted Alistair over by the fire.  “Here, take that templar fellow.”  Zevran gestured dramatically at the confused looking human as he spoke.  “Rugged good looks, quick wit, manly shoulders. Just getting him to hop borders is a challenge worthy of the great heroes.”

Alistair glared.  “A challenge? I'd happily hop borders, given the chance. I've never even been close to leaving Ferelden!”

For one brief moment, Zevran was stunned.  A slow grin crept on to his face.  “Those were not the borders I was speaking of, my friend.”

Zevran delighted in Alistair’s confusion, as he clearly tried to puzzle out Zevran’s meaning.  “Than what are you on about?” He asked, sounding positively exasperated.

Kind soul that he was, Zevran was fully prepared to answer the question.  But just as he was about to launch into what was sure to be an educational explanation, Leliana poked him harshly in the side with her bow, knocking the wind out of him.

“Don’t you dare,” Leliana scolded. 

Zevran rubbed the tender spot on his side.  “I was simply discussing travel plans with our good friend here.  To what do I owe such a display of cruelty?”

“Hush, Zevran.” Leliana rolled her eyes, clearly unmoved by his pain and unconvinced by his words.

“Oh.” Zevran and Leliana both turned their heads at that.  Alistair’s face was bright red as he said, “I think I figured it out.”

When Alistair somehow managed to blush harder, Zevran winked.  “You will let me know if you ever decide to make that particular adventure, yes?”

 

 

**.005**

 

It was a night like any other when Zevran realized he would be taking the Warden to bed soon.

It was an odd sort of game he found himself in with Lyanna, played out only during their chats at camp.  Every time started the same; she’d walk up, ask if it was okay to ask some questions.  Only once he had accepted the offer would she sit down beside him and start asking her questions.

When they weren’t having their chats, she kept her distance.

It was different than the distance their other companions kept from him.  Their looks were one of blatant distrust.  When he would catch Lyanna looking his way, her looks would remind him of the one he’d been given when the two Crows bought him; assessing and evaluative.  He wondered what she was looking for.  If she was trying to parse out his worth, or simply questioning the wisdom of her decision.

He wondered if she could tell that he was still deciding how to proceed; Make an honest go of this adventure and his oath, or find the end of his life at the end of her blade. 

“In Antiva, being a Crow gets you respect. It gets you wealth.  It gets you woman… and men, or whatever it is you might fancy,” he found himself telling her that night.  For a brief moment, Zevran allowed himself to be pulled back to that time.  Long, wild nights in the tavern on the Antiva City docks, the way Isabela’s eyes lit up with interest as soon as the word ‘Crow’ was spoken, Taliesin’s mouth against his after another job well done.  Rinna… 

 

(Don’t think of her, don’t think of her, don’t think of her.  He repeated it in his head like his own personal chant.)

 

His life with the Crows hadn’t been idyllic, but being stuck behind the gilded cage hadn’t been all bad.

“So what is it you fancy, exactly?” Lyanna asked.

“I fancy many things,” Zevran said, voice effortlessly switching to a flirtatious tone.  “I fancy things that are beautiful and things that are strong.  I fancy things that are dangerous and exciting.  Would you be offended if I said I fancied you?”

“Not particularly,” Lyanna said, matter-of-factly.  She left Zevran hanging in confusion for moment by the lack of flirtation in her voice, before she gave him an obvious once over.  “Perhaps I fancy you too.”

She smiled over at him, then stood up.  “Have a nice night, Zevran.”

Zevran leaned back on his bed roll, grinning smugly at her retreating back.

 

-x-

 

When Zevran woke up the next morning, he was filled with new purpose.  He couldn’t help but grin; the excitement of his own realization enough to power him through another day of trudging across this harsh country.  Alistair eyed him suspiciously from where he stood, bleary eyed next to the fire. 

“You didn’t poison anyone, did you?” the man asked.  “Nothing like poison to ruin a perfectly good morning.”

Zevran grinned, unrepentant.  “Why so suspicious, my friend?  I haven’t tried to kill you in months.  Surely by now you’ve learned to forgive.  Or, is that why they kicked you out of the order?”

Alistair spluttered.  “You know what?  It’s too early for this.”  The other man turned around, and started rolling up his cot. 

They had a long trek from Lake Calenhad to Ostagar today, so Zevran got up and began putting his things together as well.

A couple of minutes later he felt a tap on his shoulder.  He turned around to find Lyanna.  “I know you took the last leg of the journey on foot, but Leliana’s ankle is still swollen.  Also, I think Morrigan might actually kill Alistair if I don’t separate them, so I was planning on having her take Bodahn’s cart with Leliana as well.”

Zevran waved off any further explanation.  “Do not trouble yourself over it.  Though perhaps you could keep me company on our trek,” he suggested.  “A pretty face would help ease the pain of the journey, I’m sure.”

“Well,” Lyanna said, playfully drawing out the word as if she was weighing her options.  “I suppose that is the least I can do.” 

 

-x-

 

A few hours in to their journey, Zevran almost questioned his earlier acceptance of not taking the cart. 

It had all started out well enough.  He’d been walking along side Lyanna, once again allowing her to control the flow of conversation.  Just when he had been about to ask her something about herself, they were set upon by bandits. 

The bandits were, as always, dealt with swiftly.

After they had set out again, Zevran had been determined to move things along further.  But just as he was about to go in for the kill, so to speak, they ran across a small group of giant spiders.

Once again, the nuisance was swiftly dealt with and they were on their way.

The third time, Zevran was not even surprised when they were attacked by a contingent of darkspawn near the outskirts of Lothering.

If had been a superstitious man, Zevran would have taken it as a sign that his designs on Lyanna were clearly doomed.  Now was not the time for such thoughts though.  Instead, he got to work dispatching whatever darkspawn were unfortunate enough to lose sight of him in battle.

By the time the battle was over, Zevran was suitably exhausted.  He flopped down to the ground, long having since stopped caring about the Fereldan mud he would encounter in doing so, and luxuriated in the feel of no longer moving.

A little farther down the field, he could see Lyanna speaking with Alistair.  They had the map pulled open between them, and seemed to be debating a route.  Lyanna nodded and the let go of the edge of the map she had been holding. 

She looked around for a moment, before catching sight of Zevran.  He waved from his spot on the ground, determined not to move until absolutely necessary.

Luckily for him, Lyanna began walking his way.

As she got closer, Zevran thought she might be walking with a slight limp.  He was proven right as she got closer, and sat down gingerly beside him.  “Would it be awful if I just called this whole thing off, and we made camp here for the night?” 

“Only if you do not think it would be a good decision.”  Zevran shrugged.

Lyanna sighed, then laid down on the grass.  “It doesn’t always have to be my decision.”

Zevran turned his head, surprised to hear her voice such a thought.  Part of it had to be due to the strain of the day, but there was still the same tiredness about her that he had seen yesterday.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sound nervous.”

Lyanna laughed tiredly.  “That’s just the thing, Zevran.  I’m always nervous.”

Zevran raised an eyebrow at that.  There were many words he would use to describe Lyanna.  Nervous was not one of them.  It left him unsure of how to respond to the revelation.  It didn’t seem a comment deserving of his usual flippant remarks. Nor did it seem inconsequential.

He reached out to brush back some of the black strands that fell out of her braid.  His fingers brushed against her cheek as he did that.  Lyanna leaned in to the touch, and Zevran was surprised by the jolt of satisfaction that went through him. 

“Well you do an excellent job of hiding it,” he said, slowly drawing his hand back in to his own space.

“That’s the idea,” she admitted quietly.  Lyanna sighed heavily before forcing herself up.  “You might as well get comfortable, we’re camping here for the night.”

“I do not know if I could remain so comfortable out here in the open.  The trials of today have made me weary” Zevran said.  Sensing his opportunity, he grinned up at her flirtatiously.  “Do you think you could find it in your heart to share your tent with?”

Lyanna raised an eyebrow.  “That is a terrible line, Zevran.”

Zevran shrugged.  “And yet, my question still stands.”

She shook her head in disbelief, and chuckled.  “We’ll see.  Perhaps I am too tired for whatever designs you have.”

“You shouldn’t doubt yourself so,” Zevran quipped.  “We’ve heard the rumors of Grey Warden stamina even in Antiva, you know.”

Instead of actually answering, Lyanna laughed again and made her way towards the rest of their companions.

 

-x-

 

Later that night Zevran found himself in Lyanna’s tent, between her legs.  Quite content to spend a considerable amount of time there.

Beneath his hands he felt the muscles of her inner thighs shake.  Her hips squirming every so often from the effort not to buck up against him.  He took that as a good sign, despite barely being able to make out the soft sighs that she muffled behind her own hand.

That would just not do, Zevran decided. 

With no small amount of regret, Zevran moved away from her wet center.  Lyanna opened her eyes and propped herself on her elbows as he slowly sucked a mark on to one of her inner thighs. 

Content with his handy work, he turned his focus on to Lyanna’s slightly dazed face.  “You know, my dear warden, you don’t have to be so polite,” he teased, sliding a hand up her thigh.  She gasped quietly as he dragged his thumb in slow circles around the hood of her clit, an imitation of the earlier motions he had made with his tongue.

He paused for a moment, then glided his thumb across her center to take in the feel of her wetness again.  When he saw her bite back a moan, he doubled his efforts.  Her face flushed bright red in response, but again, she brought her hand up to her mouth to muffle her quiet.

“What is this, Lyanna,” he teased lowly, reaching up with his free hand to tug at her arm.  “Afraid the darkspawn will hear, and come barging in to camp?”

Lyanna sighed breathily.  “They better not,” she said before a soft moan escaped her lips.  Satisfaction went through him at the unmuffled sound. 

“Perhaps if they do, we can just leave them to the tender mercies of our companions,” he quipped.  “I’m sure Alistair will be able to warn them in enough time.  They will be just fine without us”

At that Lyanna let out a peel of laughter.  She pushed herself fully up only to grab him by the hair.  “Shut up, Zevran,” she ordered, before pulling him down.  He kept himself braced above her as she led him in a slow languid kiss. 

After a few blissful moments he carefully moved one hand back down her body, enjoying the feel of her fingers tightening in his hair when he pushed a finger slowly in to her.

Lyanna moaned against his lips, and Zevran laid a trail a kisses up her jaw and to the sensitive tips of her ear. 

“If my dear warden so insists,” he couldn’t resist saying. 

Even when Lyanna smacked him lightly in response, he couldn’t bring himself to regret.

 

 

**\+ .001**

 

In hindsight, Zevran should have seen it coming.

One of the questions he will ask himself later – before he had accepted the inevitable but after he had realized there was a word for the terrifying, claustrophobic feeling in his chest – will be, “when did I let that happen.”

He will have his suspicions about a moment or two; or more accurately, he’ll go over every moment spent in her company with a fine tooth comb, trying to puzzle out when the exact moment was.  But he will have very little luck.

When feeling particularly sulky, he would give the somewhat gruesome answer of, the day Taliesen died.

If he was feeling a little more honest, he would say it was some time before that. 

But then there came the tricky part.  Because the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like more of an addition of moments leading up to this one inevitable thing, instead of one big moment that he was just dumb enough to miss.

The time when she first invited him to her tent was plausible, but ultimately false, because Zevran had always been able to separate sex from feelings.  When she started wearing his earing was a bit on the nose, and now that he gave it some thought about it, also false.  He couldn’t say he let those feelings start there, because by then they had already taken root up in his chest and wrapped around his heart.

Round and round he goes, with no progress made. 

Eventually, he settles back on the day Taliesen died.  Not because it was exactly correct, but because that was the day he realized what had happened and that was good enough for him.

 

-x-

 

He’d been in the library at Arl Eamon’s estate when Lyanna found him.  Her face uncharacteristically grim as she approached. 

Zevran couldn’t blame her.  After all, it wasn’t every day you helped kill your current lover’s ex-lover.  She’d since changed out of her armor, and obviously taken care to wash off the blood, but that was the sort of thing that just stuck with a person.

“We did another sweep around the city,” she said, leaning backwards against the edge of the table.  “If there were any more of them, they’re long gone now.”

Zevran let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding.  He’d been carrying the weight of the Crows bullseye on his back for so long, he’d forgotten what it was like without it. 

“They will assume I am dead along with Taliesen,” he said the words slowly, as if the restrained tempo would somehow make it easier to believe.  “So long as I do not make my presence known to them, they will not seek me out.”

Lyanna nodded in agreement.  “I don’t think anyone would be expecting survivors from that ambush.”

If Zevran hadn’t already known that the Crows viewed every one of their assassins as expendable, he would have said the loss of so much talents would hurt them.  But he knew better by now.  Sure, they would mourn the loss of some of the more tenured members, but House Arainai was set up to churn out assassins for years.  Even now, he knew there were kids being groomed to replace them back in Antiva City, and teenagers poised to set out on their first real mission. 

“I suppose it would be possible or me to leave now, if I wished,” he ventured.  “I could go far away, somewhere where the Crows would never find me.”

For a moment, he fantasized about going back to Antiva City.  It would be a brash move for sure.  But if he was careful enough, he might be able to take out a couple of the higher ranked members before they caught on to his presence. 

He frowned, surprised to find he found little joy in the prospect.  Instead, an uncomfortable feeling settled in his gut at the thought of leaving Ferelden now.

Zevran looked up to Lyanna, trying to gauge how she felt about the idea.  Her lips were pursed, but she said nothing.

“Though, I supposed I could also stay.”  There was no change in Lyanna’s face as he spoke.  Confused by that, he pushed forward.  “I made an oath to help you, after all.  And saving the world seems a worthy task to see through to the end, yes?”

Lyanna let out a small, humorless huff.  “If you want to go, you should go.” 

Arms crossed in front of her, it was hard to believe that this was the same woman he was wrapped up with in bed this morning.  Never had she seemed so closed off from him.

“But that is what I am asking you,” Zevran said, surprised by the pleading note in his voice.  Realizing that he hadn’t actually asked a question, he tried again.  “Do you want me to go?  Do you need me here?”

Lyanna shot him a frustrated look.  “Of course I want you to stay,” she snapped.  She took a deep breath, then pushed off of the table to stand directly in front of him. 

“You have to know I want you to stay,” she spoke softly, picking up his hands and holding them gently in hers.  His heart beat rapidly in his chest.  Admittedly he was not sure if it was fear or anticipation that moved it so.  For all the things they had done in bed, Lyanna had never touched him like that before.

“But, more than that, I want you to do what's best for you.”  She looked him dead in the eyes as she spoke, and Zevran found he couldn’t look away.  Or maybe it was that he didn’t want to.

Blood rushed towards his face.  And oh it had been so long, but Zevran knew he was blushing.  Could feel practically feel it on his face and at the tips of his ears.

“I…”  Zevran stuttered, then paused.  After a moment he cleared his throat and tried again.  “I am not sure how to respond to that.  Nobody has ever… I mean, normally these things are decided by others.”  He looked up at her, somewhat at a loss.

Lyanna shook her head.  “Not between us.  I’m not taking decisions from you.” 

Zevran hesitated.  “Then I suppose I shall stay?”  He paused, feeling awkward and wrong footed.  He hadn’t meant for that to be a question.  “Is that good?" 

Lyanna shrugged.  “If that's what you want, then yes.”

 

And so he stayed.

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: The first section contain very brief mention to some of the Crows more harsh training tactics. Nothing is shown or described, but the characters are 10 and 11. There is also one, short sex scene. If you would like to skip it, it falls between the lines, "Instead of actually answering, Lyanna laughed again and made her way towards the rest of their companions." and "In hindsight, Zevran should have seen it coming."
> 
> And thanks to those who are here simply because they made it to the end! 
> 
> All of the scenes, with the exception of Isabela's section were meant to be part of a larger work. However, I regrettably didn't have the time needed to make that work. I hope you were able to enjoy what small pieces I was able to put together here.


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